


Every Pipe

by Control_Room



Series: The W-lly Franks Twins [4]
Category: Bendy and the Ink Machine
Genre: Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Boys In Love, Brothers, Coffee, Depression, Exhaustion, Family, Fluff and Angst, Gay, Gen, Ink, M/M, Pain, Panic Attack, Twins, caught in a lie, gent products, happy end, ink everywhere, i’m outta here, oblivious characters, pipe burst, uh, walkie talkies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:58:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Control_Room/pseuds/Control_Room
Summary: They all burst, leaving Joey and Willy to clean the mess. Oh, yeah, they meet, and Willy’s hired. What’s new with you?





	Every Pipe

Neither Thomas nor Wally spoke, choosing instead to sip their coffees and watch the rain drizzle down. They had exhausted conversation, but neither were bothered by the silence. It was a warm, welcome quiet, one that old couples might share. Thomas’s grey eyes never left Wally’s face, and vis a vis. Both wore matching smiles, with half closed eyes and pleasantly soft expressions. Soon, they finished their drinks, just as the rain pitter pattered to a halt. Thomas paid for their coffees, and they stood together and walked out, hand in hand. They walked toward the studio, but about three blocks away, they both silently agreed not to return to work just yet, so they made a left. Thomas knew the way to a nearly park by heart, so he lead the way, Wally right beside him. A somehow dry bench awaited them, and they settled in it, listening to the birds twitter, inhaling the petrichor of the atmosphere, reveling in the other’s presence. Thomas rested his head on Wally’s shoulder. After a moment, Wally gently settled his head above Thomas’s, and all was peaceful. Eventually, noon sank into a lovely mixture of afternoon dusk, complete with warm air and a soft, cool breeze. As they began walking back to the studio, a shrill squelching noise burst from the walkie talkie on Wally’s waist.

“EM… GE… CY!” Willy’s terrified voice, cracked and distorted forced its way through the little device. “FLO… D… EV… YON… TRA… PED! ST… CK! HELP!”

Thomas and Wally stared at each other for a moment as the walkie talkie cut off, obviously broken. Then they ran at a breakneck speed, as fast as they could, to the studio, hoping they weren’t too late.  
  
———————

Willy carefully went down to the floor with the gauges as Thomas left. He had slipped into a Little Miracles station to appear as though he vanished. Imagine his surprise when he saw Joey Drew leaning there, casually smoking a cigarette. A grin twisted onto his Boss’s lips when he saw the dark skinned man. A sinking feeling fell into Willy’s stomach.

“Come here, Willy Franks,” Joey calmly said, and for a moment, Willy would’ve sworn his heart stopped beating. When he didn’t move from his position at the foot of the stairs, Joey’s grin grew even as his eyes narrowed. “Now.”

“Yessir?” Willy asked, rushing over, fear evident in his voice. Joey seemed to gain satisfaction from the torrent he was putting the young man in. He slowly turned his head to look at the gauges. Willy followed his gaze, fidgeting ever so slightly. It was at forty five. Joey raised a wrench and began tightening the safety bolt. Willy cried out in shock and terror. “Mist’r, uh, Mist’r Drew, what on Earth are you doing?! Y-you need to unhook the safety latch!”

“I am informing you of what you are doing,” the slightly deranged man stated, pausing in his twisting of the screw. Willy’s hands clenched and unclenched, heart panicking. His vision flicked as his breathing became three times as rapid as before. Joey laughed. “Oh, I’m sorry, are you having a panic attack? A few days ago your old boss told me that was why he fired you about two months ago. You’ve been working with your brother here for about a month, and Mr. Cohen was so kind to inform me that Wally seemed to have his paycheck twice as much in that span. Have either of you been ditching work in that span of time?”

“No sir,” Willy regained himself quickly, covering up for Wally’s slack, wrestling his mind from the abyss even as his brain screamed at him to curl into a ball forever. “I’m sorry we had to meet like this, I really want to work at the studio, but… that was why I knew you wouldn’t hire me, because I freak out when too many things happen that shouldn’t be.”

“Such as your brother going out with Mr. Connor on a date?” Joey inquired, unhooking the safety latch, much to Willy’s relief.

“Not at all, Mr. Drew,” Willy informed him, a smile growing on his face as he thought of his brother. “Wally deserves to be happy.”

“And do you?”

“I… hah, sir, I’m just the spare twin. If Wally’s happy, I am.”

At this, Joey frowned.

“Surely you have some sort of goal?” he questioned. They didn’t notice the gauges rising. Willy shook his head. “No dreams, or hopes? How….”

“Do I live with myself?” Willy offered, for once allowing his exhaustion slip into his voice. The sheer amount astounded Joey. A self depreciating chuckle escaped his lips. It made Joey’s skin crawl, as he had heard that chuckle many times from himself. “I don’t. It’s day in, night out, again and again and again. Nothing new ever happens, sir. I don’t think it could really be considered as living. More of an illusion. There’s not much to look forward to. Except,” a dreamy look crossed over his face, startling Joey once more. It appeared Willy had much more to him then he let on. “Wally’s happiness, of course, but… Mr. Drew, have you ever met someone who you just… can’t stop thinking about? And you would do anything for them? And, G-d, you just want to see them smile and hear them laugh for the rest of your life?” A blissful peace swept over Willy, and tears pricked both men’s eyes, Joey because he could think of a person, and Willy because he had been thinking of someone. Willy looked up at his unofficial boss with a sad smile. “But you know deep down, you’re not good enough for him.”

“Yes,” Joey sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Oh, yes. I know. I have met someone like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” Joey methodically stated, calculating the risks of his next steps, and found none. Now, let’s get the paperwork done to put you officially in as a worker of Joey Drew Studios. What do you say, Mr. Franks?”

“Really?!”

“I’m beginning to think that is the limit to your vocabulary,” Joey humored with twinkling eyes. Willy flushed, but followed Joey to the elevator in any case, despite his dislike for the system. “Now, your starting salary should be about the range you are already being paid. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Yes, Mr. Drew, very,” Willy admitted, stepping into the moving ‘death trap’, as he called it, alongside Joey. “I… s-so you aren’t holding my… problems against me?”

“No, why should I?” Joey wondered aloud. “Just because some blasted idiot doesn’t understand that poor mental health is a fact of life doesn’t mean I don’t.”

“You’re very kind, Mr. Drew,” Willy said, still feeling relief course through his veins. Joey harrumphed. They rode up to his office in silence, and filled the paperwork quietly. Just as Willy was about to sign the contract after meticulously reading it, he hesitated. “Is this for real? This isn’t some shtick?”

“You are too much of a skeptic, Mr. Franks,” Joey chuckled. Willy looked back at the paper on the desk, and paused again. “I guarantee this is real.”

“Alright, I trust you,” Willy sighed, and began scrawling his name in a neat script. He suddenly froze by ‘Fra’, jolting up with a concerned expression. He looked around. “Did you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Joey asked, straining his ears. Suddenly, multiple horrific rending noises screamed, resounding throughout the studio. A sound of rushing like water immediately followed, and shrieks and yells wafted up the stairs. “Oh. That. Great. The pipes burst again.”

“I don’t think that was just a few pipes,” Willy squeaked, leaping up to run and help. “I think that might have been every pipe in this place.”

“You mean…” Joey paled at the implications. Another realization hit him like a freight train. There were people in the studio, and among those people was- “HENRY!”

“SHAWN!”

Both men looked at in surprise and mortification, before they both just smiled, each putting an index finger to their lips. They silently agreed to secrecy and ran out to assist and assess the damage to the studio. It was terrifying. Ink dripped everywhere, and the most frightening of the ruin was the waterfall of black torrenting down the stairs. Joey hesitated, but Willy pressed on, undeterred. He grabbed a Bendy cutout, and reached a hand to Joey, red hot, steely determination blazing in his eyes. Joey tentatively took the dark skinned man’s hand, and he yanked him forward, launching them down the stairs, using the Bendy as a makeshift raft. They rushed down the raging ink, leaping out as the ink threatened to destroy the cardboard. Both men were drenched in ink, yet they trudged on. A hand shot up out of the mire, and Willy ran to assist, Joey close behind catching up as Willy pulled Allison from the ink. Willy gently sat her on a chair as she coughed, ink splattering her hands.

“You take care of the people I send back!” Willy shouted, bounding into darkness. He clicked on his inked up walkie talkie, using the last of its power to send an alert to Thomas and Wally. “Emergency! Flood! Everyone’s trapped! HELP!”

Joey looked around, noticing a shifting pile of ink, and darted over, lifting Norman up and out. The projectionist looked more confused than hurt, and for that, Joey was glad. He quickly explained the situation to him, and Norman offered to help Willy gather the dispersed workers. He soon returned with a limping Sammy Lawrence leaning against him, a fuming Bertrum following. However, upon seeing the distress Joey was in, his anger abated. Wally and Thomas ran in, concern written across their faces. Most of the workers stared at Wally, as they thought he was the one who helped them out of the abyss. Both of them went different ways to assist, Thomas whipping out the medical kit he snatched from the infirmary, and Wally dashing off to help his twin. Jack Fain emerged next, unconscious, carried by a staggering Wally, with Lacie hobbling beside him, grumbling about needing a new hydraulic pump. Wally returned to the mire, passing Johnny on the way.

Minutes passed. Agonizingly long minutes. Joey paced, then forced himself to settle on a box. Everyone knew who he was waiting in, his closest friend, Henry. A shadow emerged, and Joey jumped up. Everyone tensed, then relaxed with a mixture of relief and worry when Grant came into focus, coughing more than Allison, leaning heavily on Wally. Wally made eye contact with Joey, lowered his gaze, and slowly shook his head. Tears sprang to the forefront of Joey’s eyes. He looked around at his workers, his friends, and with a irrevocable nod, ran into the darkness.

It was pitch black. Groping around he found a Gent flashlight, which thankfully worked. He clicked it on, cautiously proceeding. He found Willy similarly equipped, making sweeping motions with the flashlight he held. It was just Henry and Shawn left unaccounted for. It terrified both of them. A ripple caught Joey’s attention, and he pointed it out to Willy, who dove into the deep ink. After seconds that felt like excruciating hours, Joey found Henry shoved into his arms. From the dim light of the abandoned flashlight, Joey could see tear streaks running down Willy’s face.

“You should go,” he said softly, in a broken voice, indicating the battered and bruised Henry, who was hacking up ink and struggling to stay on his feet. “He’s not in very good shape, Mist’r Drew.”

“But what about Sha-”

“Don’t,” Willy firmly commanded, but pain and anguish riddled his tone. “Please. Just go help Henry.”

With heavy, trudging steps, Joey obeyed Willy, carrying Henry bridal style as the animator’s strength failed him. As they returned, Wally walked over to them slowly.

“And Shawn?” he asked, on behalf of his brother. Tears and an angry scream snared within him. He was angry that Willy didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this! Wally swore angrily, his rage far surpassing that of Joey’s. “It’s not fair!”

“WHERE IS HE?” an Irish voice rang out, silencing the murmur of conversation. Shawn thundered down the steps. “I got trapped in my own fecking workshop by that damned ink, may the devil use it as a ladder to pick Hell’s apples! Now, ná bí ag iarraidh cluain an chacamais a chur orm! WHERE IS WILLY!?”

“He was looking for you,” Wally weakly replied, pointing down the hall. Shawn cursed again, and then ran down the darkened passé. Joey carefully settled Henry down, helping Tomas patch him up. Wally looked after Shawn’s vanishing form. “He does care about him.”

“I wish a man cared about me like that,” Susie dreamily remarked. Everyone looked at her with not surprised expressions at her obliviousness, Sammy especially. “What did I say?”

————————

“Willy! Where are you!” Shawn desperately called. He heard ink splashing, and arms wrapped around him, a fuzzy head pressing against his chest. “Willy.”

“Shawn,” Willy croaked, tears running down his face and seeping into Shawn’s vest. “Shawn, Shawn, oh my G-d, Shawn. You’re alright.”

“Yes,” Shawn said, breathing in, burying his face in Willy’s fluffy hair. He inhaled again, enjoying Willy’s scent of lavender and bluebells. “Are you okay, Willy? I’m sorry, but when the pipes broke, all the boxes crashed down, sealing me in the paint room. It took me forever to get out.”

“I’m so happy you’re okay,” Willy sobbed, words mumbled through the fabric of Shawn’s clothing. “I was so scared, Shawn, so terrified. I, I thought I lost you right after I met you.”

“But I’m right here!” Shawn assured him, stroking his back. “We’re right here. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Willy gulped down more tears, latching onto Shawn, and it felt as his life depended on it. “Okay.”

“Let’s go join the others,” Shawn suggested softly. Willy nodded against his chest. He let out a sound of surprise when Shawn picked him up, carrying him back to the rest of the workers. Shawn was much stronger than Willy had believed, and he loved him for it. He loved that Shawn was here, and holding him. They made it back to the others, but Shawn didn’t set him down. He sat on a chair, and gently rocked with the exhausted and spent Willy, softly singing an Irish lullaby of his childhood. Willy dared not let go, but drifted off to a peaceful rest as Shawn protected him from the darkness of the world. Shawn pressed a kiss to the top of Willy’s head. “Sleep well, Willy. You deserve it.”


End file.
